I don't remember when, exactly, I started noticing and feeling like I was different. Maybe, its always been that way. I've mentioned in one of my older posts, that I always felt like I was less than my sister. Not as pretty. Not as fun. Not as popular. Not as thin. That was a big one. Weight is hard, ya'll. Regardless of how old you are. I learned how to eat away my feelings at a super young age. Not to mention, my Great Grandma used to buy my love with ice cream and pickles. (Not together. That's gross. Have some more faith in me, guys.)
My parents used to have this long, thin wall mirror in the entry way to our house. I always saw it as soon as I walked in that door. And, I remember how often I used to stand in front of that mirror and pick myself apart. I would pinch my stomach and suck it in. Practice my smile, to make sure I didn't look goofy. I had insanely crooked teeth. Thank goodness for understanding parents and braces. Amen.
I'm not talking about my high school years, guys. Or even middle school. I did these things when I was 6. 8. 10. My body has disgusted me for as long as I can remember. If you look at all of my school pictures, you can see my transition from cute, little, innocent child------> insecure chunky monkey. Probably around 3rd grade or so. I started wearing nothing but sweatshirts and sweat pants. I hated skirts and dresses. Scratch that. I loved skirts and dresses. I hated that my legs rubbed together so badly they would bleed when I wasn't wearing pants.
Guys, I literally wore sweats and loose t-shirts in all of my school pictures. I didn't want to wear anything pretty, just to remember how terrible I looked in it. So, I would hide the school picture forms from my parents, so that no one could pick out an outfit for me. (Sorry, Mom.) If I looked frumpy on purpose, it wasn't as embarrassing as looking terrible on accident. Right? I know we've all felt that way.
One of the strongest memories I have of my childhood, involves my parents. They were outside on our back deck, having a conversation. And, my super snoopy self, decided to eavesdrop. I'll never forget the way my heart dropped so hard it broke through the floor boards. Everything negative I had ever felt about myself was confirmed in a single second. Because I overheard my dad telling my mom that I was fat. I knew I was fat, already. Don't get me wrong. I wasn't stupid. But, you expect your parents to be blind to that sort of thing. To always think you're the most beautiful angel they've ever seen. And, although I'm sure my dad still felt all of that about me, he also thought I was fat. I still hold onto the memory, today. I probably shouldn't. I know he was just worried about my health. But I cant help it. That one, unintentional second, put a rift in my relationship with my dad for years and years to come. But we'll talk more about that, later on. In a separate post.
I let this hatred keep me locked up in my room for years. I had friends. But, I never saw them outside of school. I hated going out in public. Books were my friends. They didn't judge me. They didn't look at me funky and make fun of me. They didn't point and laugh.
Although. To be quite honest. No one else ever did those things to me, either. But, my personal demons always had me convinced otherwise.
Somewhere in my middle school years, I started sucking in my stomach like no other. I did It so often, that it felt unnatural to NOT suck it in. Eventually, I made some of the most amazing friends that kept me active, and, as puberty attacked, my weight started to shed. But, that will always be one of my biggest insecurities. So many young girls (and boys) feel that every single day. Comparing their bodies, hair, eyes... Ya'll, my sister even had me insecure about my toes. MY TOES. (insert face palm here)
I gained almost 100lbs during my pregnancy with my son. 100lbs of lord only knows what. Because I wasn't eating very much. But, the weight just kept piling on. During the pregnancy, I wasn't as bothered by it. I had a baby in there. No duh I was round. It made sense. Now that he's out in the world, and I still have stretch marks, loose skin, and chunky thighs.... I cry almost every time I try to put on a pair of pants. I cry in the shower. I cry when I'm trying to carry my daughter around and my arms cant stand the weight for very long. And my daughter is tiny. I cry a lot. I absolutely hate my body, sometimes.
And.
Here's a shocker, guys.
ITS OKAY.
If I had never started hating my body in the first place, I never would have started eating better and being more active. I never would have wooped my ass into shape. And, I never would have realized how strong my body is.
I lost over 30 lbs in ONE SCHOOL YEAR.
I ran a mile for the very first time that same year.
My best friend and I used to walk around town for hours and hours after school, and my legs would never feel tired.
I carried 2 human beings. Grew their little toes and long eyelashes within this body.
And then.
I pushed them out. With ZERO medication.
My body grosses me out and makes me cry.
And, don't get me wrong, I NEVER want my children to feel the way I have felt about myself. I tell my daughter shes beautiful every single day. And, I pray to God that she always believes it.
But I am finally to a point where I can recognize that my hatred isn't going anywhere.
I use my hatred to fuel my fire to keep me healthy and active, instead of letting it drown me and keep me alone. If I had never hated my body so much, I wouldn't be able to appreciate it as much as I do, now.
And, that's it.
Post number 2 has come to a close.
Feel free to comment your own insecurities. Whatever battle it is that you've been fighting with yourself. We all have them. Sometimes it helps to shove them out into the light.
My parents used to have this long, thin wall mirror in the entry way to our house. I always saw it as soon as I walked in that door. And, I remember how often I used to stand in front of that mirror and pick myself apart. I would pinch my stomach and suck it in. Practice my smile, to make sure I didn't look goofy. I had insanely crooked teeth. Thank goodness for understanding parents and braces. Amen.
I'm not talking about my high school years, guys. Or even middle school. I did these things when I was 6. 8. 10. My body has disgusted me for as long as I can remember. If you look at all of my school pictures, you can see my transition from cute, little, innocent child------> insecure chunky monkey. Probably around 3rd grade or so. I started wearing nothing but sweatshirts and sweat pants. I hated skirts and dresses. Scratch that. I loved skirts and dresses. I hated that my legs rubbed together so badly they would bleed when I wasn't wearing pants.
Guys, I literally wore sweats and loose t-shirts in all of my school pictures. I didn't want to wear anything pretty, just to remember how terrible I looked in it. So, I would hide the school picture forms from my parents, so that no one could pick out an outfit for me. (Sorry, Mom.) If I looked frumpy on purpose, it wasn't as embarrassing as looking terrible on accident. Right? I know we've all felt that way.
One of the strongest memories I have of my childhood, involves my parents. They were outside on our back deck, having a conversation. And, my super snoopy self, decided to eavesdrop. I'll never forget the way my heart dropped so hard it broke through the floor boards. Everything negative I had ever felt about myself was confirmed in a single second. Because I overheard my dad telling my mom that I was fat. I knew I was fat, already. Don't get me wrong. I wasn't stupid. But, you expect your parents to be blind to that sort of thing. To always think you're the most beautiful angel they've ever seen. And, although I'm sure my dad still felt all of that about me, he also thought I was fat. I still hold onto the memory, today. I probably shouldn't. I know he was just worried about my health. But I cant help it. That one, unintentional second, put a rift in my relationship with my dad for years and years to come. But we'll talk more about that, later on. In a separate post.
I let this hatred keep me locked up in my room for years. I had friends. But, I never saw them outside of school. I hated going out in public. Books were my friends. They didn't judge me. They didn't look at me funky and make fun of me. They didn't point and laugh.
Although. To be quite honest. No one else ever did those things to me, either. But, my personal demons always had me convinced otherwise.
Somewhere in my middle school years, I started sucking in my stomach like no other. I did It so often, that it felt unnatural to NOT suck it in. Eventually, I made some of the most amazing friends that kept me active, and, as puberty attacked, my weight started to shed. But, that will always be one of my biggest insecurities. So many young girls (and boys) feel that every single day. Comparing their bodies, hair, eyes... Ya'll, my sister even had me insecure about my toes. MY TOES. (insert face palm here)
I gained almost 100lbs during my pregnancy with my son. 100lbs of lord only knows what. Because I wasn't eating very much. But, the weight just kept piling on. During the pregnancy, I wasn't as bothered by it. I had a baby in there. No duh I was round. It made sense. Now that he's out in the world, and I still have stretch marks, loose skin, and chunky thighs.... I cry almost every time I try to put on a pair of pants. I cry in the shower. I cry when I'm trying to carry my daughter around and my arms cant stand the weight for very long. And my daughter is tiny. I cry a lot. I absolutely hate my body, sometimes.
And.
Here's a shocker, guys.
ITS OKAY.
If I had never started hating my body in the first place, I never would have started eating better and being more active. I never would have wooped my ass into shape. And, I never would have realized how strong my body is.
I lost over 30 lbs in ONE SCHOOL YEAR.
I ran a mile for the very first time that same year.
My best friend and I used to walk around town for hours and hours after school, and my legs would never feel tired.
I carried 2 human beings. Grew their little toes and long eyelashes within this body.
And then.
I pushed them out. With ZERO medication.
My body grosses me out and makes me cry.
And, don't get me wrong, I NEVER want my children to feel the way I have felt about myself. I tell my daughter shes beautiful every single day. And, I pray to God that she always believes it.
But I am finally to a point where I can recognize that my hatred isn't going anywhere.
I use my hatred to fuel my fire to keep me healthy and active, instead of letting it drown me and keep me alone. If I had never hated my body so much, I wouldn't be able to appreciate it as much as I do, now.
And, that's it.
Post number 2 has come to a close.
Feel free to comment your own insecurities. Whatever battle it is that you've been fighting with yourself. We all have them. Sometimes it helps to shove them out into the light.
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